


Neon Angel

by BiolabBlasphemy



Category: Devilman (Anime & Manga)
Genre: First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Recreational Drug Use, Religious Metaphors, Underage Drinking, manga universe, pretty OOC, takes place in the sabath bc i felt like it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-19
Updated: 2018-07-19
Packaged: 2019-06-12 22:03:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15349716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BiolabBlasphemy/pseuds/BiolabBlasphemy
Summary: Something about Akira draws him in. The way he smiles, the way he laughs, the way he talks. Ryo desperately wants more of it.





	Neon Angel

**Author's Note:**

> I'd like to clarify that I haven't written anything in a year and a half (until I started on this). Also, while writing this I was listening to tons of Hozier and was just like channeling him as I wrote this at 3 AM, so anytime you come upon some really terrible religious metaphor, just know it was me channeling him. (Also I don't condone underage drinking or drug use)

Ryo was stiffened out of his haze. It wasn’t the overbearing blare of the music, or the mashing of bodies together in a sea of people, and it wasn’t the resurgence of new drinks and substances entering his system. 

It was the feeling of thin sweat drenched fingers fumbling to interlace with his, scrambling to reach for his pale hands swaying while he danced to the flow of the music. He let his eyes flutter open from his stupor, careful to slowly adjust himself to the flashing lights, all neon, all blinding. 

He half expected some poor girl, attempting to get someone to dance with, maybe someone to do more with, to be reaching for him. Her drunken hands deftly attempting to gather his attention, eyes wide from the cocktail of acid tabs and human excitement, at least that’s what Ryo imagined. 

Cracking his best menacing grin, the same grin a dog makes before it bites, he turned around to face the other entity in the basement, the unknown provoker, and fully opened his eyes. Piercing glare met soft, pleading, recognizable eyes and his bared teeth faltered into a soft smile. 

Akira was struggling to slip between the fence of people dancing and swaying like Ryo just was, Akira kept reaching forward, but Ryo's hand was just out of reach from his grip, like a man at sea struggling to grab a life preserver. Realizing the situation, Ryo reached forward, grabbing Akira by the wrist, and pulled him through the throng of people, earning them both dirty looks from those around him. But to Ryo the world seemed to tunnel around him, like he and Akira were the only two living creatures in the room. Besides, the mass of people seemed to behave in-humanly, like a mound of grinding, sweating, swaying flesh. 

Ryo didn’t actually mind or care about the party-trance induced people until a stray hand reached out of the crowd, hungrily grabbing at Akira’s loose shirt and pulling him back into the shifting mass that blurred in Ryo’s vision. A pang of annoyance rang through Ryo at the anonymous hand and he once again pulled Akira’s wrist, this time a little rougher. 

Akira snapped through the crowd, clumsily losing his footing, and yet still trying to regain it all at once. Drunk off of overstimulation from the crowd, drunk off of the nakedness of those around them, drunk off of the atmosphere, and just straight drunk. Akira looked like a young fawn attempting to walk for the first time, all soft angles and trembling legs. 

The sight of it inflicted a warm boiling feeling deep in Ryo's chest, a feeling he couldn't quite put his finger on, but it brought a sort of softness to the usual hard edges he fronted for others. Akira invoked a softness in him. 

It felt right when he thought about it. Akira was soft hearted; to such an extent that he seemed so full of delicateness that it rubbed off on Ryo. It wasn't that Ryo mimicked his composure, it just felt right to be as open with Akira as Akira was with him. Plus, Ryo supposed Akira complemented him. Kind eyes and lopsided, bubbly grins contrasted perfectly with his cold glance framed by gold eyelashes and the cocaine smeared on his upper lip. 

Ryo watched as Akira opened his mouth to speak to him, but Ryo couldn't make it out over the cacophony of drums and bass echoing off of the basement walls. And even though Akira was only a couple feet away from him, Akira's voice was lost to it all. 

 

Akira's face brightened as if he realized the predicament they were in and he lurched towards Ryo, his hand reaching forward to tightly clutch Ryo's and lean in to speak into his ear. 

He couldn't focus on what Akira was trying to tell him through his hot breath whisking over his ear and exposed neck, through Akira's slight pant, he could feel his blond hair stand on end, like it invoked power in him. 

"What?" Ryo called again to Akira. 

"Can we please sit down for a bit?" His jaw slacked and unslacked, while his brown eyes flickered and danced around the room as if dancing with the beat and lights themselves. Ryo new what this meant from Akira's strange leg wobble. Akira was dizzy. From their closeness Ryo then realized how blown his eyes were and the sweat dripping down his neck and partially exposed chest. His slightly wrinkled and unbuttoned school uniform created a kind of disheveled-ness, but some part of his look reminded Ryo faintly of old catholic paintings of Saints. 

Maybe it was the draping fabric over his boney shoulders, or it was the way his full brown eyes looked towards the sky, or the glisten of his skin under the multicolored lights. But it could have just been the mere fact that Akira always appeared Saint-like, like he was untaintable and above sin. 

"Sure." 

He squeezed Akira's hand a little tighter as he led him to the seat along the wall, nearly drowning in the touch of their finally interlaced fingers. Once again, the warm feeling spread through Ryo's limbs, and he concluded it must have been the drinks. 

Akira swung his body back and threw himself down on the booth, if it weren't for the loud music, Ryo swore he could've heard the creaking of the seat. 

His back was squared with the back of the seat with his legs slightly parted and his head leaned back, just absently staring at the ceiling. Ryo would have joked about it, but he knew this was probably Akira’s first experience with any kind of drugs or alcohol. Hell, Ryo was practically a professional at it. It showed too. 

It showed in the way that a whole joint to himself barely fazed him, and even though he’d already nursed a whole bottle of rum like it was water, it barely even showed on his face. It was only prominent in the blurred shapes in the corner of his eyes, and the slight euphoria that buzzed through him. It helped him focus less on his problems, and more on zoning into the movement and music of the party. 

His whole body shocked back into focus when he felt a slight brush to his knee, like electricity jolting and sparking up his spine he stood up straight and on end immediately, facing toward the intrusion to his personal space. It was Akira leaning towards him, something circling in his big doe eyes, some kind of emotion Ryo couldn't put his finger on. 

His look flicked between Akira's hand on his knee, and the ambiguous emotion Akira was bearing, and he couldn't make out the meaning of either. Ryo searched his face trying so hard to reach a prognosis to the foreign soft upward turn to Akira's eyebrows and the slight cheery grin. Almost snide, like he knew something Ryo didn't, almost intoxicating, like Ryo could get drunk off the upturn of his lips. 

Whatever it was, all searching was for nothing, as the blinding neon lights shown behind Akira and dripped into Ryo's hungry eyes like watercolors, it blinded him from eating up Akira any further. But if he squinted slightly, the lights looked like a halo surrounding Akira's head, like he was made of neon, light, and warmth himself. 

Funnily enough, Ryo was so swallowed up by Akira's likeness, that he didn't notice him leaning so close to speak into his ear once more, his voice a lithe and effervescent congregation of air compared to the low hum and chords of several instruments blasting in the background. 

"Ryo, are you alright?" 

The way he said his name lingered and buzzed, nearly danced, around Ryo's disoriented brain. And he leaned towards Akira to answer back. 

"Mhmm, doin great" 

"Are you sure?" 

Akira leaned in slightly closer. The well known pin pricks of fear arced it’s way up Ryos spine. Something about this felt dangerous, a sort of moral ambiguity rose with his best friend’s face so close to his, almost touching noses. He could see right into the burning eternity that was Akiras eyes. 

“Are you still ok?” 

So close he didn’t need to raise his voice, so close Ryo could watch his throat bob as he nervously swallowed, so close he could see each crease in his slightly parted lips, and so close he could count every eyelash that brushed his soft cheekbone. 

Challengingly Ryo replied. 

“Never better” 

Akira swiped his toungue over his bottom lip before diving in, destroying the space between them, and yet creating an unknown bond Ryo never realized they had. Once again the warm bubbling feeling returned, yet this time it boiled over and spilled, presenting itself physically in the way Ryos hands unknowingly knotted into Akira’s hair. 

The whole ordeal was a shock to Ryo, and yet, it felt almost natural. Like some part of his conscious expected is to happen, like it was only bound to come to light. The feeling so alien and yet so natural, like two parts making a whole. 

And he really felt whole again, a gaining sense of fulfilment rang through him, as if the feeling of Akira's lips on his own signified the rise of heaven on earth. The dash of his tongue over Akira's teeth becoming the true representation of living flesh walking along the flesh of immortals. 

But just as he was getting fully enamored in Akira's space, his taste, and the way he held Ryo's pale cheeks, Akira pulled away as quickly as he dove in. Visions of heaven fled from the back of Ryo's eyelids. 

"I'm sorry- I... I don't know what that was" Akira hastily rambled, eyes grown wide in shock, eyebrows contorted into worry. 

Ryo so usually full of sarcasm and banter couldn't even string a word together, all of the letters flooded his mouth but his brain couldn't line up the simplest of sentences. His head danced like wild radio static, a sense of joy for his newfound love was later intensified by a feeling of excitement and then immediately washed away in a wave of shock and regret after Akira apologized. 

"There's really no need to apologize." He sputtered, attempting to comfort Akira in his nervousness. But some part of it made the strong hand of anxiety grip at his throat, Ryo was internally scrambling for an explanation. Was it an actual display of affection swapped in the tongue of two new lovers or just the fumble of drunkenness caused by the fact that Ryo just so happened to be there? Did Akira see him as something more than friends or just a uncalculated mistake? 

Each question raced through his mind, and even though the general buzz of music echoed in the room, a feeling of awkward silence rose between them. Akira held his hands tightly over his mouth, as if removing them would let something loose, and the slightly sorry look he gave Ryo burned the blond's mind. But through it all a new question surfaced in his brain, what did that mean to Akira? 

He and Akira were just staring at each other, a frightened daze between the both of them, and Ryo struggled to find the guts to ask his question. 

“So… what was that about?” he tried to muster confidence to sound more sure of himself. 

Akira’s hands quickly darted from where they caged his mouth to clutching the seam on his shirt. Ryo watched his fingers interlace in the fabric like they interlaced with Ryo's hand earlier. 

“I’m really sorry can we just pretend that never happened? Would it be better if I said I was fucking with you?” 

Ouch. The idea of it all being some cheap joke put salt right in to Ryo's wound, and didn’t, in fact, make it any better. A sinking feeling consumed him like he was slipping away from the answer he wanted. The answer he hoped for. The answer he needed. 

"It would be better if you just told the truth." Ryo sputtered, reeling in a cocktail of nervousness and embarrassment. He just wanted to hear the words come out of Akira's mouth, he wanted to know how Akira felt. 

"I don't think you wanna hear the truth." Akira began fumbling even more with his shirt, keeping his eyes focused on his hem instead of Ryo's hungry gaze. 

The needlepoints of fear once again drove up Ryo's spine, his life wasn't in immediate danger, but something about the way Akira spoke made it feel that way. Some part of him wanted to curl away from Akira, leave the Sabbath and all it's sweaty party goers, and pretend he was never here. He could pretend his father never had any loose ends after he died, he never knew Akira, and he had no recollection of any otherworldly monsters from the depths of hell coming for him and his friend. 

Another part of him was waring between wanting to know what Akira had to say, and just not wanting to know at all. Maybe ignorance could be bliss. 

"Whether it's good or bad doesn't really matter, I just want to know." Ryo egged him on, trying to get him to at least talk about it. His tightly pressed lips and eyes locked to his fidgeting hands didn't allow for this though, he continued to be caught in his own silent trance. 

Suddenly, Akira's head shot up so his eyes could fall onto Ryo's. The look in Ryo's eyes became nothing compared to Akira's, where Ryo's eyes soaked up every part of Akira greedily, Akira's were starved, nearly swallowing Ryo whole. The look peeled him apart, the comfort of his slouching jacket became a broken safety net in the pools he saw in Akira's eyes, while the haze that consumed him earlier seemed to drift. Dark, yet soft, with the glimmer of lights reflecting off of them like tiny stars. 

Ryo watched the right corner of his mouth drift up into a lopsided grin, and his lips started moving, but between the quietness of Akira, and the buzz and clash of drums, Ryo couldn't hear it. 

"What?" He called, leaning forward to try and tune in on what Akira was lowly mumbling. 

Akira leaned forward, as if to repeat himself into Ryo's ear, and instead let out a little whistle of hot breath between his teeth before grabbing ahold of Ryo's turtleneck and softly pressing their lips together. 

Once again the feeling of wholeness flooded Ryo, while the boiling feeling he felt earlier returned, flooding his senses and taking hold of his body, it overwhelmed and consumed him. As if he couldn't control, it his hands reached to hold Akira's face, like he was anointing it in worship, they ran over the soft curves of his cheeks, slightly clutched the rim of his jawline, and his thumbs encouragingly rubbed little circles on his cheekbones. 

Thoughts became incoherent, like the humming background noise around them, and some part of him knew that in another time, another place, they had done this before. It, in fact, was his first time doing this with Akira, and yet somewhere in his soul, a hollow feeling was being filled and it told him that this wasn't the first. It wouldn't be the last time either he hummed to himself, vibrating the shared chasm of their mouths. 

Akira shuddered but continued to lovingly embrace what Ryo was giving, running his tongue sloppily over Ryo's top lip. Although drunk and inexperienced, it felt like a new tier of heaven to Ryo. 

They pulled away to breathe a bit, choppy and uneven in both of their chests, but breathing nonetheless with both of their foreheads resting against each other. Even though they were in a room crowded with other people, some part of their close proximity made the whole ordeal seem private, intimate, and almost sacred in a way. 

A light bronze hand ghosted over Ryo's cheek, while another tucked itself discreetly under his overcoat, just holding on to his hip. Akira's head leaned lazily into Ryo's shoulder, and his lips gently kissed his pale neck, desperately trying not to lean into it, Ryo sighed. 

He could finally place a label to the bubbling feeling, it was an anxious and childlike love. It flitted like a butterfly and turned in his stomach, unsure and yet so trusting. He wished he could package up the feeling and take it with him everywhere. But he couldn't, and that thought process was nonsense. 

Akira pulled away from his neck, and rested his face into Ryo's shoulder, leaning onto Ryo lazily and holding his sides. 

"God, I'm so fucked up." He groaned, his voice muffled by Ryo's jacket, while Ryo stifled a slight chuckle. He began pulling Akira's head away from his shoulder to look him in the eyes, giving him the gentlest look he could. 

"Would you would have done that if you weren't drunk?" He gingerly swept a piece of Akira's dark hair behind his ear. 

"If I felt really gutsy, then yeah." A dazed look swept over Akira as he leaned into Ryo's touch. Ryo could feel his heart beat in his chest like the kickdrum of the music, fast and loud. He couldn't help but let a smile crack across his face. 

"Are you decently inebriated? Are your inhibitions gone?" After Ryo spoke, Akira nodded into his hand, which was still against his face. 

"Alright," Ryo chided, his smile growing even larger. Every part of this night was going great. "On to phase two." He stood up from the seat and Akira peeled off of him. 

He picked up a nearby bottle and bashed it onto the table, the sweet sound of breaking glass rung through the noisy basement like a choir of angels, and he could feel the smile on his face grow even larger, if that were possible. He began running into the dancing crowd and Akira scrambled after.


End file.
